


How Are You, My Future 'Something'

by bealeciphers



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: DC's Legends of Tomorrow, Drabble, M/M, One-Shot, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bealeciphers/pseuds/bealeciphers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard Snart is lying in his room in the waverider, after a visit to the year 2024. The Flash is lying beside him, unmasked and comfortable, but this Barry Allen isn't the one from 2016. Trying to get information, Len engages this Barry in conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Are You, My Future 'Something'

**Author's Note:**

> The first sentence was a plot bunny in my head and it evolved from there. This is my 'stay on task but give myself a bit of a break from my Rogue Z brainstorming/writing' drabble.

“Please don’t compare yourself with Atom, I don’t think my boner can candle it,” Len said, shifting his hand under Barry’s head.

“I just don’t get the animosity,” Barry said, turning his head slightly to look at Len. He shrugged, and lifted the blanket up closer to his chin. He kept moving the blankets around in Len’s room, but the temperature in the ship _was_ set to a degree Len hadn’t had a say in. To Barry, and Kendra, and Jax it was too cold. For Mick, it was nightmarish and he’d screamed at Len for fiddling with it before Len explained he hadn’t, it was Rip Hunter’s settings and somehow the temperature could not be changed, something to do with optimum temperature for time travel, exercise, and brain function.

Barry was wearing a long sleeve shirt, and sweatpants, and still had two blankets on him. Len shared one of them, and was sleeping in boxers. “You haven’t been here,” Len pointed out, “you haven’t had to deal with him.”

“Okay,” Barry said, nodding. He looked at Len, and asked, “What horrible things has Ray done?”

“He’s an idiot,” Len started.

Barry jumped in immediately, “He’s an extremely successful businessman and a technological pioneer. He’s crazy smart.”

“Fine, he’s an asshole,” Len decided.

Barry looked at Len with disbelief.  He moved, shifting his head away from Len’s hand and grabbing a pillow, supporting himself up on his side by his elbow. As he looked down on Len, obviously amused, Len put his hands behind his head and looked up. “How is Ray an asshole?” Barry asked.

“He’s enormously gullible, he talks to people like he’s talking to himself in a mirror, he keeps looking at me in conversations like I just suggested Brotha Lynch Hung sing at a kid’s birthday party,” Len added, “when I try to insult him he acts like it’s a fucking compliment.”

“He’s pretty upbeat,” Barry agreed, “but I’m upbeat.”

“You’re not gullible, and addicted to some martyred white knight fantasy of yourself,” Len said.

Barry grinned down at him. “How do you know? Maybe I’m a complete narcissist in the future.”

“Simple,” Len said, and then with a sigh he sat up. He rested one arm on his knee, dangling his hand over, and the other hand reached for Barry’s side, two fingers softly touching against Barry’s stomach, a small expanse of skin revealed as Barry’s shirt bunched up, as if they weren’t quite sure if they should be there. “The Flash never set out to be a hero, didn’t seek recognition and in fact maintained himself almost completely in the dark until forced out,” Len said, casually, “Palmer’s entire aim in this is to be a hero.”

Barry’s head turned, as if taking in the room on the waverider. It was a cramped space, the dresser and a desk were built into the wall, the desk had to be pulled out to be useful. The bed took up the majority of everything, and to reach the closest bathroom they’d have to leave the room and walk a fourth of the way around the ship. A small room next to Len’s contained Mick, and there was a low low bass beating of something undeterminable coming from the right side of that room. The room itself was lit up, not with any lamp, but by something in the very walls themselves, hardly leaving shadows. Len had turned the light down, slightly red, to keep it from being so bright it was uncomfortable. There was still enough for the both of them there, on Len’s bed, albeit they were forced to stay close.

Len was still getting used to that.

“It’s not like I didn’t want to be a hero,” Barry said.

“He _bothers_ me, that’s all,” Len said. His two fingers, brushing on Barry’s side became two fingers and a thumb. “I think you and I have more to discuss.”

“We have to stay on safe topics,” Barry told him.

“Are you always this cold to me?” Len asked, a leading question, his bright eyes darting down and then to Barry’s face in a mockery of bashfulness.

Barry shifted his weight slightly, not moving Len’s hand away but not moving any closer. “What do you think about Sara?”

“Tough. Intense. Hot-headed,” Len said, curtly.

“Kendra?”

“The beautiful, ancient Egyptian priestess I’ve seen eating Wheaties cereal at 3 p.m.? I’ll pass on defining that one,” Len drawled.

Barry smiled at him, temporarily. Len stared at Barry’s mouth for a long moment after. “What about Jax and Stein?”

“Both _very_ different people, many confusing thoughts,” Len said, avoiding the answer just to make Barry push for it.

“Then Firestorm,” Barry said, good-natured to the end.

“Fine, fine,” Len raised his hand as if admitting defeat before setting it back down on his knee. “I find Firestorm strange, an exciting person to partner with but confusing, not knowing if I’m talking to Jax- to Stein, or both, it puts a man on uneven footing. Besides, I think Mick might have beaten his meat just to the thought of Firestorms existence.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t love the idea of Killer Frost,” Barry teased.

Len didn’t know who Killer Frost was, but he didn’t let confusion cross his face. “You got me,” he said instead.

Then Barry moved, settling down on the bed again, his face on the pillow so now Len was the one looking down. “Rip?”

“A complicated liar,” Len replied.

“Jax?”

“A good kid, strong and smart is a dangerous combination, Stein should utilize his talents more rather than focusing on areas the old man thinks need improvement,” Len answered.

“Very discerning of you,” Barry said.

“It’s my job,” Len answered. And then, a swift and clean motion, he reached out and grabbed Barry’s hand. Barry jumped up with a start, but didn’t pull his hand away from Len’s. Len held Barry’s hand tightly, his forehead furrowing as he did, and while one hand’s fingers slipped in between the spaces in Barry’s fingers, the other reached out to hold the wrist steady. “I notice things,” Len said.

“And what do you notice?” Barry asked, surprisingly not angry, not even bothered.

“Your ringfinger is slightly less tanned,” Len told him.

Barry didn’t miss a beat. “I keep my Flash uniform in a ring, you saw that,” he reminded.

“That ring was on the forefinger of your other hand.”

“I keep a spare.”

“On your ring finger?”

“Maybe I was married.”

“You are married.”

“Maybe I’m divorced.”

“Who are you married to?”

Barry _snorted_ with disbelief, a chuckle in his throat that he seemed to swallow down. “’Who am I married to?’” He repeated, as if that question made no sense to him. “Come _on,_ Lenny.”

“Is it me?” Len asked, careful to say the words without any inflection or emotion.

“No, I’m not married to you,” Barry said, eyes bright with amusement, “I’m married to my version of you. The one I mistook you for when I kissed you.”  Len let go of Barry’s hand, and Barry lifted the hand up to Len’s face to brush against something. Len couldn’t see what it was, and then Barry licked his thumb and brought it back to Len’s face, rubbing, and explained, “You have soot on your face.”

Len leaned down to kiss him. Barry backed up, and pressed his knee against Len’s stomach to stop him. Len stared, confused, not wanting to show it.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Barry told him.

“You said you’re married to me,” Len reminded, the words sounding like they echoed in his head.

“But _you’re_ not married to me,” Barry added, a twinge of mischievousness in his expression, “I only kiss my husband.”

“Why aren’t you wearing the ring?” Len asked.

Barry’s face erupted into a smile, one that reached his eyes like the sun and almost had Len smiling himself just by looking at it. An outright expression of happiness so strong it was contagious. “It’s an heirloom,” Barry told him, “it’s not friction resistant. The Flash can’t wear it but Barry Allen does.”

“How did this happen?” Len asked him.

“Can’t tell you,” Barry replied, still smiling.

“You’ve told me a lot already,” Len said.

“Have I?” Barry said, playfully.

And _fuck,_ Len wanted to kiss him, badly, badly. The thought of it nearly clouding everything. The idea he had to wait, even longer, wait to have Barry Allen like that, underneath him and smiling, lying beside him, speaking with him, it was wrenching at his gut. Len grasped Barry’s wrists again, gently but firm, and moved around Barry’s knee, sitting in between Barry’s legs, he pulled Barry’s wrists up against the pillow and stood still.

Barry raised an eyebrow at him and didn’t move out of the position at all.

Then Len leaned down, to kiss him again, but before his nerves even registered the loss of touch, Barry’s right hand had phased out of his grip and he’d pressed his forefinger against Len’s lips. “Lenny,” Barry said, softly as if it was an apology, “no.”

Len sat up, lifting himself away from Barry just enough that Barry dropped his finger from his lips. “How did this happen?” Len asked.

“Sorry,” Barry said in lieu of an answer.

“How can I make sure this happens?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Barry promised.

 _“When_ did this happen,” Len asked.

“In good time.”

“Why?”

“’Cause we’re just so good looking together,” Barry grinned, “you swayed my heart with your puns.”

“Oh,” Len said dryly, amused nonetheless, “is that the secret?”

“The way to a speedster's heart,” Barry promised, “along with ample food.”

“I can learn to cook,” Len promised.

For the first time since they’d been speaking to each other, Barry was the one who looked confused. “You don’t know how yet?”

“Maybe that’s a secret too,” Len whispered at him, “what if we just broke the timeline?”

“I wonder,” Barry said, shifting but not moving from underneath Len.

Len wasn’t immune to the obvious leeway Barry was giving him there, and the permission, but he couldn’t help wanting to test the boundaries. He shifted lower, nearly on top of Barry, and rested his elbows on both sides of Barry’s heads so he could be directly over him.

Barry didn’t even flinch at the challenge, lifted his head just enough to press their foreheads together. God, it was like Barry was _used_ to him. Challenge for challenge, matched play for play; Len narrowed his eyes as he stared into Barry’s.  “How long do I need to wait until I see you naked?”

“Forever,” Barry answered, “I’m celibate as a nun.”

“Am I a good husband?”

“Who said I had a husband?” Barry joked.

“Then I suppose I can kiss you now,” Len said, dryly.

“Sorry, I’m seeing someone.”

“And who is that?” Len asked, playing along with it.

“Eh, big guy. Bald. Really old. Wears winter coats everywhere. You wouldn’t know him,” Barry said.

Len glanced at Barry’s lips long enough to be sure Barry had seen him do it, before returning to his eyes. “Are you pleased with yourself?”

“I’m not trying to lead you on, promise,” Barry said, “give it some time and I’ll make it up to you.”

 _“How_ much time?” Len asked.

Barry gave him a sad smile, reached up and brushed something away under Len’s eye. “I know you, Len. Even if I could tell you more, you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to be following a series of instructions, worrying if you’re getting it right, living the start of our romance like a recipe. You want to live things. You like unpredictability and excitement.”

“I don’t know if I want to take a gamble on the odds here,” Len said.

“You already have a headstart on your-time-period me,” Barry assured him, “you just have to help me catch up.”

“Doesn’t sound like something _you’re_ used to saying,” Len said.

“Lenny, you’d be surprised.”


End file.
